Haunted Honeymoon (12 page)

I took Wil’s hand and turned the silver rings on his fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overreact. But, Wil, I assure you, you’re safe from possessive boyfriends. As for the blood, I’m not a born vamp, and sex and blood … It gets too confusing for me.”

“I’d wager that you let Ducharme drink from you. If I was the jealous type … but I’m not,” he said with a smile. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little,” I lied.

“Do keep it in check, cutie,” Wil said. “I am what I am.”

We stayed out especially late on the night before I left. On the way to Wil’s flat, we played on a dark empty street, chasing and tickling each other.

He ran into the street to get away. “Can’t catch me!”

“Yes, I can!” When I reached him, he took me in his arms and swung me around in a waltz, singing, “Tah, dum-dum, tah, dum-dum!”

We were laughing so much that it took me a moment to notice a black sedan speeding down the street. There was no time to do anything but grab Wil like a sack of potting soil and run to the sidewalk. But the driver was driving so recklessly that his car veered toward us, jumping the curb, and I shoved Wil against a wall and flattened myself over him.

The car sped off and Wil said, “Shit, shit, shit,” and I said, “Are you all right?”

“You just saved my life. You’re like a superhero!”

I went on tiptoe to kiss his forehead and inhaled his scent of ale, white musk aftershave, sunblock, hash, and sweat. He was lovely and so I said, “You’re lovely. That guy drove like a maniac.”

“Probably as drunk as a lord,” Wil said. “Or maybe it was a lord—Ducharme.”

I’d wondered that for a moment as well, but I said, “One, Ian drives luxury cars, and two, he wouldn’t have missed.”

Wil borrowed a car and drove me to the airport. We kissed good-bye and kissed again, his mouth tasting like the peppermint he’d just eaten.

“I’m going to come see you as soon as I can,” he said.

“Come soon. You can stay with me. I have to spend some
time writing, but I want to show you my favorite places in the City.”

“Next week. I’ll come next week.”

We kissed again, and then parted. I turned back to look at Wil and his long, skinny body, and he waved to me. I’d found someone who was trying to make the world a better place, and who also knew how to have fun.

As I pulled my chartreuse zebra suitcase toward the check-in counter, I knew that now I had to face reality, and that included telling Ian that things between us were over for good.

If he wanted that voracious bitch Cricket as a cocktail, he’d have to do without the main course.

seven
Blood the One You’re With

I took the airport shuttle back to my loft and shuffled in my handbag for my keys. The key chain had come unlatched. I dumped my entire bag out on the front steps as I searched for my house key, before I remembered that my bag had fallen over at Wil’s.

Luckily I kept an extra set of keys with my neighbor, who let me in the building. I had a refreshing blood spritzer as I put away my things. Then I drove to My Dive. It was only five o’clock, and the box office girls unlocked the front door for me.

“Helloooo!” I called into the empty club.

I heard a yelp and then scampering as Rosemary came from the back hall. He wagged his tail and I sat on the floor and rubbed his brown coat.

Mercedes came out a minute later and watched our reunion with a smile.

“
Hola, muchacha
,” I said. I gave her a big
abrazo
and said, “I’d jump around, too, but things on me bounce too much.”

“Thanks for not licking my face either. Rosemary thinks it’s a great way to wake me up. How was your trip?”

“Fantastic. I nekkid blood wrestled some sexy chick in a vampire club.”

“I thought you’d be going to plays and museums.”

“I did that, too. I wasn’t completely nekkid. I was wearing a bathing suit and it was fake blood, but the effect was riveting. I got the writing job, too. As usual with
Don
Pedro, I can’t talk about it, but I demanded and got
mucho dinero.
”

“That’s good. I was afraid you’d try to incite someone to try to kill you just for another settlement.”

“No such luck, although I almost got hit by a car when I was waltzing in the middle of a street one night.”

“I hope you’re exaggerating. Did you meet Wilcox Spiggot?”

“Yes, and he’s fabulous and we had a torrid affair.”

“Don’t tell me anymore,” she said. “You know I have to deal with Ian, and it’s upsetting for me even if it’s just dramatics for you.”

“
Cariña
, I need to share with someone, and I was your friend before he was your partner, so I have seniority.” I put my arm around her and leaned my head on her shoulder. “I brought you expensive Scottish tea and jam. I also have the demos of totally bitchin’ bands, and they’re interested in playing here.”

We went to her office and I recited my travelogue. Mercedes shut her eyes during some of the more graphic details.

“And in conclusion,” I said, “Wilcox is not only sexy and delightful, but Wilcox is also a deep thinker and open-minded.”

“Kinky is not synonymous with open-minded. You say that he’s deep without presenting any actual evidence.”

“But I
explained
how things like the Bloody Good Table help position the vampire community within the larger community,” I said. “The Vampire Council is concerned about Wilcox, which is evidence aplenty, and Wilcox didn’t want to drag my vacation down with ponderous matters, because Wilcox is sensitive to others’ needs.”

“You just like saying his name.”

“Well, obviously. Wil-
cox
. So what do you think?”

“Why rush full tilt into a relationship with this vampire–surfer–political activist–sex maniac when you’re still involved with Ian and haven’t recovered from Oswald?”

It was a real question, so I thought before answering. “I felt different around Wilcox, a little like the way I used to be
before
…”

“‘Before’ you always complained that no one took you seriously. You went through party boys like they had a one-month expiration date and you barely held on to your apartment. Do you really want to go back to that?”

“Not that exactly, but I miss the belief that I’d meet someone who was both fantastic and a good person, someone who made a positive difference in the world. A vampire–surfer–political activist might be just the right kind of dude for me. He’s more admirable than a louche continental smoothie.”

“I’m only going to say one thing about Ian. I think you are too ready to find fault with him because he’s not Oswald.” Her phone rang; when Mercedes finished the call, she said, “If you update the club calendar, I’ll give you a bowl of peanuts and a Bloody Mary.”

While I worked on the My Dive website, Juanita and the Rat Dogs rehearsed the same new song for hours. Each time they played it, I liked it more.

When I went to get Rosemary from Mercedes’s office, I saw her taking something out of a small padded envelope and grimacing.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She held up a brushed aluminum flash drive. “One of Los Hackeros sent me this as a present.” Los Hackeros was her nickname for her inner circle of computer hackers. “He designed a worm that he says can bypass any firewall and implode a system.
Hackers have a strange way of showing admiration.” She tossed the flash drive in her trash can.

Before I could say good-bye to her, her soundman came by to talk about equipment. When she got up to talk to him, I reached into the trash can, took out the flash drive, and put it in my pocket. I’d delete the worm file without opening it, and then I could use the drive.

I waved good-bye to Mercedes, and I took my dog and went home.

We walked up the stairs and went to my front door, but when I put my key in the lock, it was already unlocked. I pushed the door open slowly and went inside while Rosemary charged ahead of me.

Ian, wearing a beautiful black suit, sat in a pink velvet chair by the windows that showed the glittering skyline beyond. He was holding a large book, and I saw that it was my annotated collection of Shakespeare’s tragedies. I felt as shocked as if I’d gripped a wire with a live current.

“Hello, Milagro.”

I couldn’t say anything about his unexpected visit because I’d given him a key and I’d always gone to his place unannounced. “Hello, Ian.”

His dark eyes gleamed below the hooded lids. “I stopped by on my way to Gigi’s. She told me you were coming to her little gathering tonight.”

“Gigi
always
thinks she’s invited me to things, but she forgets to actually invite me.” I sat on the fuchsia sofa.

“I heard that you were in London.”

“Yes, I had a business meeting there and got a big writing gig.”

“Congratulations. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”

“Very much.” I tried to sound calm as I said, “I met Wilcox Spiggott there and he acted as my host. Vampire society in London
is much more advanced than the backward feudalism here or in other places. I’m going to see Wilcox again. He’s visiting soon.”

Ian gazed at me, making my every nerve alert.

“Milagro, I waited for you through your infatuation with Oswald, or, more accurately, your infatuation with his grandmother, because I know how important it is for you to have a maternal figure.”

“You waited for me by consoling yourself with an anorexic Eurotrash model.”

“That’s a very impolite way to speak of my friend,” he said. “I’ve made my feelings for you clear, and I’d hoped you returned them.”

I stared at Ian, thinking of how his touch made me forget who I was, how his taste made me delirious, and how he’d never told me he loved me. “I knew exactly how you felt about me when I saw Cricket freaking up against you and your marks all over her body.”

“You’re behaving like a petulant child. I’ve explained that …”

“You’ve explained that you were just using her and I don’t know what’s worse—if you’re fucking her, or if she’s just a meal to you and you’re playing with your food,” I said, my voice rising in anger and hurt. “I never had sex with anyone else when I was with you! I never even had sex with Oswald after that night when you and I …” I hesitated and then said, “And I never let him cut me after you gave me your blood. I lost Oswald because of you.”

“Is this the fable you’ve been telling yourself?” Ian asked scornfully. “I have a reason for befriending the Poindexters, and that’s what we are—friends.”

“Friends with benefits,” I sneered.

“I didn’t intend for it to progress as it did, but Cricket was aggressive and I had to steer her attentions.”

“Right into your crotch,” I shouted, and stood up.

“My association with the Poindexters is more important than you, more important than my personal life.”

“But you can’t explain it. You never explain anything,” I said. “Every time I’m with you, Ian, I feel as if I’m drifting farther and farther from my moorings.” I began pacing, walking along the far wall of windows.

“Milagro, why do you grasp so desperately at those moorings? Personal happiness aside, do you really think it is even possible for you to live like others do?”

Then I asked him the question I’d always been too afraid to ask before. “Have you ever killed anyone, Ian?”

He stood and came to me. He ran his finger across my lips and even then I wanted to open my mouth and take his finger between my teeth, but I jerked my face away.

“The difference between us, darling, is that you haven’t killed
yet
. But, because of who you are, there will be a time when it’s necessary, when you will have to decide between something that is wrong and something that is far worse. Then you’ll understand.”

“No, because I will never
ever
kill another human.”

“I wish it weren’t so. I wish you could live a safe and happy life, but I don’t think it’s possible.” He stared at me with his deep brown eyes. “Did you intend for your recent antics to humiliate me publicly?”

Although he didn’t raise his voice, he was angry and for the first time, I was afraid of him. “No, my antics were to please myself, just as your antics with our neighbors were to please yourself.”

He took my wrist in his hand, turning it to show the blue veins and the pale pink scar on my arm. Then he said, “Are you coming with me to Gigi’s?”

“No.”

“Very well.” He kissed my wrist and then walked to the door.
“Be assured that whatever your intention, you succeeded in enraging me.” He turned to look at me. “Milagro, when you’re finished with Spiggott and you’ve disposed of him, perhaps you’ll want to come back to me, but don’t expect me to wait for you or take you back again.”

“So that’s it then?” I said. “It’s over? Am I finally free of you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “I hope you get everything you deserve. Good-bye, Milagro.” Then Ian Ducharme walked out the door and out of my life.

Perhaps it was jet lag, but as soon as he was gone, I felt shattered. The knowledge that he was amoral and dangerous gave me no solace as I sobbed at the thought that I’d never make love to him again, or see him smile and call me his own girl, or make him burst into that wonderful rumbly laugh.

I thought of all his kindnesses to me, all his attentions, the gifts that were always so perfectly suited, the way he treated me as if I was the most fascinating person he’d ever met, the way he made me feel beautiful, smart, witty, strong, desirable.

I thought about the way he looked at me when his dark eyes opened in the morning, as if I was what he wanted to see most in the world.

But catching him with Cricket had proved that it was all a lie. So why did I feel as if someone had carved away a piece of me so deep that I would never heal from the wound?

I was too upset to sleep so I threw myself into my fauxoir. I began rereading
Othello
and thinking about how I could use themes of jealousy and manipulation in
Don
Pedro’s zombie story.

I crashed at some point and when I awoke I was bent over in a chair, the hard edge of the flash drive jabbing into my waist. I straightened up, pulled it out of my pocket, and tossed it into a dish filled with barrettes, makeup, and pens.